


Waiting on an Angel

by smarshtastic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Endverse, M/M, Unhappy Ending, Winged Dean Winchester, angel!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:45:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>End!Verse: Castiel saves Dean from the other angels by giving Dean his grace, but it kills Cas once and for all. Now an angel, Dean seeks vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting on an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Canon drawn from an RP; Jess actually refers to Jessica Hamby from True Blood.

Castiel called up the last vestiges of his energy. It was useless – he and Dean were never going to win against his brothers and sisters, the full force of Heaven, or what was left of it. They had fought seemingly hopeless battles before, but this was different. There was no winning this one. They were going to die, nothing else for it. This was the end. There was one instinct left for Cas, winning out above all the others: save Dean. 

The other angels were gone, for the moment, probably to regroup. Cas took the small window of opportunity. He found Dean broken and bleeding, crumpled in a corner of the warehouse. Dean was breathing shallowly, most of his ribs broken, probably from being dropped or thrown by one of his brothers. Anger flared in the pit of Cas’s stomach; how could they do something so senselessly cruel to something so beautiful?

“Dean,” Cas murmured, pulling the man gently into his lap. He ran shaky fingers over the hair at Dean’s temple. His own chest ached for this man he loved. They have been through so much – it shouldn’t have ended like this. 

Dean’s eyes opened sluggishly, the green of his irises clouded by pain. “Cas?” he rasped. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Cas wiped it away with his thumb. 

“Shh, Dean. It’s – it will all be over soon,” Cas said. He tried to keep the strength in his voice. 

“’s… quiet,” Dean said, eyes closing briefly. It was an effort for him to keep them open, to stay conscious. Cas just needed him to hold on a little longer. 

“They’re reorganizing, I think,” Cas nodded. “We don’t have much time.”

“Go, Cas,” Dean coughed, more blood bubbling up. “I’ll – I’ll keep ‘em off.”

Cas closed his eyes briefly. “You’ve done enough, Dean.”

“You can – you can go, Cas,” Dean wheezed. He looked up to meet Cas’s eyes, his own hazy with pain. “I’ll see you up there.”

Cas swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He knew what he had to do, and time was ticking down; he could hear the tell-tale rumble of thunder in the distance. “Be strong, my Dean,” Cas murmured, leaning down to press his forehead against Dean’s. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Cas,” Dean rasped. A bruised and bloodied hand came up to rest heavily against Cas’s cheek, one finger completely dislocated, disconcertingly brushing Cas’s ear. “Love you.” Another rumble shook the warehouse. “Go. Go, Cas. Get out of here.”

Cas squeezed his eyes closed and pressed a final, desperate kiss to Dean’s mouth, trying to ignore the taste of blood. He could feel Dean giving up underneath him, the life just trickling out of his body. Cas couldn’t let that happen. He was supposed to protect this man, he was made for him – _this wasn’t supposed to happen_.

Cas pulled Dean against his chest, hugging him tight, in spite of the little gasp of pain from the fallen hunter. Then Dean went still, quiet in his arms. Suddenly, an idea struck Cas as the warehouse shook again. He moved quickly, whispering a silent prayer to an absent father that the last spark of life hadn’t yet left Dean. He laid Dean out on the concrete floor, not looking at Dean’s face for fear of what he might see, and pressed both hands to his abdomen until they sank in. When his grace touched Dean’s soul, there was a sudden flash of light. Cas fell sideways, half on top of Dean, a smile on his lips – he did it. He saved Dean for the last time.

***

  
_Waiting on an angel  
One to carry me home  
Hope you come to see me soon  
‘cause I don’t want to go alone  
I don’t want to go alone_   


***

Dean opened his eyes. He felt good – better than he should have, he realized as the memories started flooding back. The battle, the wounds, the other angels… He was still lying on the floor of the warehouse where he and Cas had made their last desperate stand. A weight lay heavy on his chest. Dean tilted his head down to look, neck stiff from disuse and probably being tossed around by Cas’s dick brothers and sisters. Somehow, by some miracle, Cas was lying there on his chest, eyes closed, face peaceful, smiling even.

This must be Heaven, Dean realized. They must be dead. 

That was okay. If he was here with Cas, that was okay. He didn’t expect to get to Heaven and be allowed to have Cas with him, not in a million years. He figured, after all they’d done, rebelling against higher powers pretty regularly and all, they’d be separated, thrown into purgatory or something. Not end up in Heaven together. Maybe Cas’s siblings weren’t so much dicks after all. 

Smiling to himself, Dean stroked a hand over Cas’s cheek, the familiar stubble scratching the back of his hand. Cas was strangely cold to the touch.

“Cas?” Dean asked, a growing pit in his stomach. Something was wrong. He sat up a little better and felt strangely off balance. Cas slid down his chest, the expression on his face not changing. “Cas? Cas – c’mon, wake up. Cas?” 

Cas didn’t say anything, even as Dean pulled him into his lap, poking him in all the places that usually made him twitch. Cas’s skin was cold, too cold, and a pale, greyish color. Dean’s chest tightened. 

“No, no – Cas, come on, wake up, you have to wake up – they’re gone, we’re – “ Dean shook the angel, none too gently. Cas’s head lolled, but he didn’t wake, despite Dean’s increasingly desperate pleas and shakes. 

“He’s gone, Dean,” a soft voice said somewhere behind him. Dean was on the speaker in an instant, inhumanly fast, hand clutching at its throat. Tessa blinked up at Dean with big, brown eyes. “Dean, what happened to you?”

“Did you take him?” Dean asked, hand tightening around her throat. Tessa managed a little headshake. He dropped her back to the ground and turned back to Cas, who was now crumpled on the floor. Tessa hesitated. 

“Dean – you look different,” she said carefully. Dean knelt next to Cas, gently straightening out his body on the warehouse floor. He didn’t look back to the reaper, his full attention on Cas. 

“Go away, Tessa.”

“No, Dean, listen to me,” she said, taking a tentative step closer. “You’re different now.”

“Leave me the fuck alone, Tessa.”

“Your anger isn’t meant for me. I didn’t take Castiel.”

“Great,” Dean grunted. His hands shook as he smoothed out the blood-spattered collar of Cas’s shirt. Cas didn’t have any wounds that he could see – no stab marks, nothing where all his grace could’ve leaked out. What could’ve happened? Cas had died plenty of times before, but he always came back. Dean straightened a little, face set with grim conviction. He’d come back. 

“Dean, look at yourself. Look what you’ve become –“

“Tessa, I swear to god – “

“You have _wings_ , Dean.”

Dean froze, squeezing his eyes closed. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Dean,” Tessa said. Her voice, usually demure and soft, was tinged with sadness. 

Dean reopened his eyes, praying that Tessa was wrong. He half-turned his head, and he could see the shadow over his shoulder. “No. _No_!”

“It’s – nothing like this has ever happened before – it’s – he gave you his grace to save you, Dean,” Tessa said softly, moving into Dean’s line of sight. “It’s an incredible blessing.”

“He should’ve let me die! We both could’ve – “

“Castiel was made to protect you. He couldn’t let you die. He couldn’t let you – It wouldn’t have been a good death, you wouldn’t have gone anywhere remotely nice – “

“He’ll come back. He always does –“ Dean said, head jerking up to look at her. Tessa bit her lip at the look in the hunter’s eyes. 

“Not this time, Dean,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m so incredibly sorry.”

“Shut _up_ , Tessa!” 

The reaper took a step back, her own face full of hurt and grief for Dean and all he had lost. “I’m sorry, Dean,” she said, and then she was gone.

***

  
_Now angel won’t you come by me  
Angel hear my plea  
Take my hand, lift me up  
So that I can fly with thee  
So that I can fly with thee_  


***

The angel magic was easy to get used to. Almost too easy. Dean somehow managed to get himself and Cas to their beach. The sun shone brightly overhead, the sand warm underfoot. He carried Cas to the patch of gardenias a little ways up the beach, where Cas once remade him. He was still convinced Cas would come back, so he sat, and he waited. Dean kept Cas cradled in his lap, singing to him softly when he could bear it, trying to soothe himself and Cas, even though he knew Cas couldn’t hear him. Several days came and went, but Cas didn’t leave Dean with his patience.

Cas’s body didn’t decay. He looked like he was sleeping, dreaming peacefully as the sun rose and set on their beach. Dean hoped that meant Cas could come back to his body, like all the other times Cas “died” and came back. 

Dean tried the angel magic, anything to put a spark of life back into Cas’s body, but it didn’t work. Nothing worked. Maybe it was because he had no idea what he was doing – he didn’t know how Cas remade him – whatever it was, it just left Dean feeling drained, and Cas looked as peacefully dead as ever. 

Finally, after many, many days of this, Dean buried Cas among the gardenias. He could’ve used his magic to dig the grave, but instead Dean used his hands, carefully moving aside the gardenias so they would keep blooming. It took a long time to dig the grave, but Dean was tireless. He didn’t feel hunger or exhaustion, even though he wished he could shut his mind off just for a little while. He laid Cas out carefully, making sure he was comfortable. It was a long time before Dean could bear to cover Cas, but he had to do it, so his body would be kept safe and whole. Something in the back of his mind – his hunter instincts – told him it was foolish to leave Cas’s body like this. Someone, something could take it, use it, abuse it. But, beyond all reason, Dean hoped Cas would come back. He burned a note in a nearby rock in case Cas woke and set other alarms should anyone try to disturb his body. He would come back, Dean kept telling himself. Cas always came back. Dean would come back too – as soon as he knew how to bring him back, Dean would return to their beach and unbury Cas, make him whole again. 

Dean went about testing his new powers. He was, as far as he could tell, just as much an angel as Cas was. It was incredibly strange, disconcerting, to be able to wield those same powers, and he hardly knew what to do with them. 

Dean realized that he must have an angel blade of his own. He had no idea to call it. Extending his hand like he’d seen Cas do, the blade appeared in his palm. It was strange to inspect this blade, his blade; it was different from the others he had seen, and not at all like Cas’s, less crisp and clean, almost more jagged. This, at least, he knew what to do with. 

Until this point, Dean hadn’t looked at the wings that surely sprouted from his shoulders. He knew they were there – he could feel their weight, he could feel the feathers rustle in the light breeze that blew across their beach – but he couldn’t bear to look at them, afraid they might look too much like Cas’s. When he finally looked at them, Dean found that they didn’t look like Cas’s at all, to his mixed relief. His wings were smoother, sleeker, and a deep blue that reminded Dean all too painfully of the blue of Cas’s eyes. He didn’t know if it was better or worse that he didn’t simply have Cas’s messy black wings; if he had, it’d be like carrying a piece of Cas around with him always. Though, he supposed, he had Cas’s grace in him. 

Teaching himself to fly was difficult and painful. Dean tried to remember when Cas taught Jess to fly, what he said to her, how he was supposed to take off. And then there was his crippling fear of heights. Eventually, Dean learned how to take off and hover a few inches over the ground, but he hadn’t dared to soar any higher. 

Dean found a set of cliffs further down the beach. He hesitated, not venturing too close to the edge. His toes curled in his boots, slipping on the loose rocks underfoot as he looked out onto the waves crashing below. 

He didn’t have anywhere to go, nothing to lose. In the back of his mind, unacknowledged, was the fact that Cas wasn’t going to come back. So if he was dashed to death on the rocks by the waves below, it wouldn’t matter at all. At least it would be over. But Dean wasn’t that lucky. 

Dean threw himself over the edge of the cliff. All the air went out of his lungs as he fell, sheer terror taking over. He tumbled head over toes, the wind whistling through the feathers of his wings –

Suddenly, Dean righted himself and shot up into the sparse clouds overhead. The shock of cold air made his eyes water, but at least he wasn’t falling any more. He didn’t quite understand how he was doing it, and he was a less than elegant flier, but at least he could turn, dip, and shoot up. Memories of flying with Cas, desperately clinging to his body as they wheeled through the air, flooded back to Dean unbidden. His own wings stuttered and he plummeted again, but he caught himself. He landed inelegantly, tumbling back down to the rocks on the cliff, a wing pinned underneath him uncomfortably. 

Well, he could fly. But now what?

***

  
_And I’m waiting on an angel  
And I know it won’t be long  
To find myself a resting place  
In my angel’s arms  
In my angel’s arms_  


***

It all went wrong not long after Jess had found her wings and her grace. Though Metatron hadn’t seemed to view Jess as a threat, there were some in Heaven who thought otherwise. Those who were appalled that someone like Crowley reproduced, that a full angel’s grace was intermingling with a human soul.

Not that it was Jess’s fault, even though she had a lot of guilt about the whole thing. Sam reminded her gently that he and Dean had started the Apocalypse, and that this probably just made her a real Winchester. Jess had smiled and kissed him, but it was strained. They all felt a lot of guilt. Still, it wasn’t really Jess’s fault, none of them were to blame – they just had a knack for getting caught in the middle of things. There was still so much dissent in Heaven, and once word got out about Jess, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Heaven had a full-scale rebellion on their hands again, a schism that threatened to rip apart all of God’s creation. 

Dean watched his brother die trying to protect Jess. The four of them had been working a job in Iowa that turned into a clash between both sides of the Heavenly rebellion, and they got caught in the middle. Dean had seen his brother die before – too many times, really – but the finality of the angel blade as it pierced Sam’s chest… The noise that came from Jess’s throat was inhuman as she launched herself at Sam’s murderer, pure heartbreak, agony from the death of her soul mate. The sudden flash of light told Dean they were both gone. He didn’t have time to react; Cas zapped them away to safety before Dean could do anything. 

“Dean, I’m sorry – “ Cas started to say, but Dean’s blank eyes made the words die in the angel’s throat. He tugged Dean to his chest, squeezing him tight despite their wounds. Dean let Cas hold him. He just felt numb. 

It wasn’t numbness Dean felt, however, when they ripped the locket that held Ellen, little yet-to-be-born Ellie, from his throat. He and Cas had been trying to track an offshoot group of rebels, they were supposed to be on their side, but the others had gotten to them first. The fight, if you could call it that, was ruthless: Dean found himself pinned quickly, Cas thrown against the wall. A hand belonging to an angel that looked strangely like Sandalphon tugged on the chain around Dean’s neck, choking him, until it broke. The surge of rage that bubbled up inside Dean was nothing like he had felt before. He threw himself at the attacking angels with reckless abandon – _not Ellie, not their Ellie_. Dully, he registered Cas struggling with a pair of angels, but Dean’s eyes were fixed on the little locket. He fought with every bit of strength he had. It was useless; Dean watched them destroy the locket, the tiny, helpless, shimmering ball of grace floating out. Then Cas was grabbing him and before they could get to her, she was gone. Cas zapped them away instantly. 

There was nothing to say. Dean and Cas collapsed together, shaking from anger and grief and loss, the sheer injustice of it all. 

The two of them stayed like that for a long time. But they had come too far to give up now – nobody would have died in vain. They were going to see this thing through to the end.

***

  
_So speak kind to a stranger  
‘cause you’ll never know  
It just might be an angel come  
Knockin’ at your door  
Knockin’ at your door_  


***

Dean did the only thing he knew how to do: he hunted. He tracked the rebel angels all over the face of the Earth, luring them away one by one, killing them with his angel blade through the chest. Whatever the angels were expecting, they didn’t expect Dean Winchester as a vengeful angel.

It worked in his favor. Dean was deliberate, careful at first, trapping angels one by one, cornering them like the monsters he used to hunt. They didn’t realize what was happening until Dean had managed to kill nearly a dozen of them. One of Dean’s targets had managed to get away, seriously wounded, but still alive. The angels got more careful after that, but they were confident they could bring down a single angel, especially if it was Dean Winchester. 

It took them years to catch up with Dean. He wasn’t even careful at that point – he was increasingly reckless, doing whatever it took if it meant that a few more enemies died. These were the only thoughts that Dean had any more; he couldn’t think about Cas, or Ellie, or Sam, or Jess. He locked those memories away, buried them deep down. It was too distracting to think about his lost family, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted. They weren’t coming back, pack it up, move on. 

He never went back to Cas’s gravesite. It was best if he forgot. So he did, slowly, until the only thing that ran through Dean’s mind was to kill every last angel he could find. 

The Earth was in ruins. It was like the Apocalypse all over again, but this time there was no stopping it. The warring angels tore up their Father’s creation without pause. Dean was only one person, one angel, and he couldn’t hold back the inevitable flood of destruction. It took years, decades, even, but the planet was suffering. Dean single-mindedly killed angels when he could, but their numbers were few, and the cleverest had managed to survive. 

Dean found Crowley by accident. He didn’t recognize the older angel, almost stabbed him, but Crowley hadn’t survived all this time for no reason. He had Dean pinned against a brick wall easily. 

“Bloody hell, Winchester is that you?” Crowley blinked, the disbelief clear in his eyes. Dean growled. “What in dad’s name happened to you?”

“Put me down before I run you through,” Dean snapped. Crowley deftly twisted the blade out of Dean’s hand. Memories started sluggishly coming back to Dean, but it only made him struggle against Crowley’s magic harder. 

“You’re the one that’s been killing all the rebels, aren’t you?” Crowley said, examining Dean’s blade. Dean watched him warily. 

“Nobody else is doing anything,” Dean said, giving Crowley a pointed look. Crowley looked back up at Dean. The older angel didn’t look nearly as self-assured or cocky as Dean remembered any more. He looked broken down, tired. 

“What is there to do? You’re mowing through my siblings like a psychotic gardener,” Crowley said. “It’s pointless. What’re you trying to save?”

“I’m not trying to save anything.”

Crowley looked at him for a long moment, something like sadness tingeing his gaze. “Right,” Crowley said. He tossed Dean’s angel blade to his feet. “Don’t get yourself killed then.”

With that, Crowley vanished. 

Years went by. Dean found himself cornered by four angels at one point. He managed to take one out, but the other three were stronger, older. He saw the glint of his attacker’s blade coming toward his chest when the other angel bust into pieces of light. Dean just barely registered Crowley’s face before he too exploded in a flash of light. He managed to dispatch the other two angels in the confusion. Before he disappeared, Dean’s eyes fell on Crowley’s body. Somewhere deep inside Dean felt a twinge. Before it grew, and before any other angels could come find him, Dean zapped himself away. 

More years went by. Earth was turning even more barren, dark and singed from the ongoing fighting. With the angels preoccupied with each other, demons and other monsters had nearly free reign. Dean hunted those too, when he wasn’t on the trail of an angel. 

Dean moved down a desolate street slowly. He had felt a tingle of magic, very strong magic, the instant he came into town – or, what was left of it. The clouds were dark overhead, tainted with smoke from a building that was still smoldering at the end of the street. Something, some _one_ appeared in his line of sight. The hairs on his arms stood on end, the tingle of magic suddenly stronger. Wildly, Dean flung himself at the figure, twirling his angel blade. 

“I do not wish to kill you, but I will if I have to,” Dean said, gazing at the creature. It was male, only a few inches shorter than him, with shocking blue eyes that sent a chill down Dean’s spine. He spread out his wings instinctively, not liking this feeling. He should just kill whatever this creature is, but something was giving him pause. Dean lunged, shoving his blade under the creature’s chin. “Why have you come here?” 

“That is a good question,” the creature said, putting his hands up. Wings extended behind him, the messy tangle of dark feathers acknowledging Dean’s challenge. “It’s me, Dean. Castiel.”

Dean’s brow twitched together briefly, looking into Castiel’s eyes. “That name sounds… familiar.”

“I – “ Castiel blinked at him. “Dean – you are Dean?”

Dean realized suddenly the blue of Castiel’s eyes matched his wings exactly. The realization crashed over him with such force Dean almost lost his composure. He ruffled his feathers, his eyes going unfocused as memories trickled back to him. “I had a lover named Castiel once,” Dean said, a faraway look in his eye. His voice sounded uncertain, weak. Castiel tilted his head at him. 

“It’s me. That is me. Dean –“ Castiel was looking at him with those piercing blue eyes again. “You were human. Beautiful. Perfect. What happened?”

Dean refocused on Castiel, pushing the pieces of memories back down even as more resurfaced. “I’m perfect now,” he intoned, flexing his wings again, sounding stronger than he felt. He watched Castiel open his mouth and tried to decipher the emotion that was behind those eyes. 

“What happened to you?” Castiel asked quietly. Dean spread his hands. 

“Life,” he said simply. The memories were nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t let them come through, not now. But all the walls he had carefully built up over the years were coming down. He spread his hands, fingers curling tighter around the blade. “And the arrogance of others.”

Castiel took a step back, something like fear coming into his eyes. “What happened to Sam, Dean? What happened to me?”

Sam. Dean rolled that name around in his brain until it stuck. Sam – his brother, his little brother – 

He shook his head. “Castiel died for his sins,” Dean said. It was a lie. He couldn’t show weakness. Castiel was dead – this man, this creature was an imposter. It had to die. He twirled his blade in his hand. “And for taking his body, so will you – “

Dean lunged at the creature in his Castiel’s body, but it ducked away and turned. “Dean – no. No, it’s me. It’s me – I’ll help you. I’ll save you. This isn’t you. What happened?” the creature was saying urgently. Dean blocked out the sound as best as he could, a dull ache welling up in his chest. 

“I won’t be fooled again,” Dean said as he lunged again, his wings lifting him off the ground. “I will tear you out of that body, whatever you are –“

The creature was looking at Dean in a way he hadn’t seen in many, many years. He could almost see his Cas in the creature, and it only made him angrier.

“No. No Dean –“ The creature flew backwards out of Dean’s reach, but he followed, his blade glinting in the dim light. 

“Get out of his body,” Dean growled, his eyes going hard and cold. He drew his arm back to stab but the creature vanished. Dean whipped around, but the creature was gone – and Cas’s body with it. He tipped his head back to the dark sky and let out a heart-wrenching yell. 

He remembered. After so many years of trying to forget, he remembered everything.

***

  
_And I’m waiting on an angel  
And I know it won’t be long  
To find myself a resting place  
In my angel’s arms  
In my angel’s arms_  


***

For the first time in too many years to count, too many years to remember, Dean made his way back to his and Cas’s beach.

He found his way back instinctively, not consciously remembering where their beach was, but his wings took him there as easily as if they were drawn there. The beach was untouched – overgrown, but just how Dean had left it all those years ago. The memories came flooding back uninvited. Dean felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. His feet carried him automatically to where he knew, somehow, Cas was buried. The gardenia bushes had grown in thickly around his grave, large blossoms hanging over the grave. Dean brushed the fallen petals aside and laid a hand on the mound. An ache in his chest was building uncomfortably, painfully. 

Grief, Dean suddenly realized. It was grief he was feeling. Grief and loss. After so many years of single-minded vengeance, Dean had forgotten what other emotions felt like, and these feelings were… disorienting. 

Suddenly, Dean had the urge to dig. He didn’t know why until his fingers brushed against a chest. A human chest. He pulled Cas out of the grave and settled him into his lap. His body was perfect – untouched, whole. Dean swallowed hard, all sorts of feelings crowding around in his brain. He reached out, brushing sand gently off Cas’s brow. 

How could he have left him here, alone, for so long? 

“Cas,” he murmured, voice coming out hoarse. He hadn’t said his name in years. “Cas.”

He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping. Gently, Dean mapped out Cas’s face with fingers that shook. He traced over the fine lines of his forehead, the slight curve of his brow, the crow’s feet that gathered at the corner of his eyes. There was still stubble on his cheek, along his sharp jaw, scratchy under his fingers. His fingers lingered on Cas’s chin, but his eyes were focused on Cas’s lips. They were chapped but full – pale, though. There was no life in Cas, and it was all Dean could do to keep from shaking apart. He felt an overwhelming sense of loss, his chest aching for this man, this angel he once loved. It was almost unfathomable, but the burn behind his eyes made everything feel so incredibly real. He realized with bewilderment that the moisture on his face was coming from his eyes – he was crying. 

With a flick of his hand, Dean refilled the grave and carefully arranged Cas on the mound, each movement tender, full of love. Then Dean laid down next to Cas, pulling him gently into his arms, so he was cradled against his chest. He draped a wing over Cas, protectively. He didn’t have to be alone any more, neither of them did. Dean pressed a chaste kiss to Cas’s temple. 

“I love you, Cas,” he murmured into his ear. He gathered Cas closer to his chest. “I love you.”

Dean held Cas close. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d stay with Cas until the End, lying on their beach, surrounded by their gardenias, holding him, protecting him as Cas did for him. A song came to his lips unbidden, he didn't know where he learned it, but it was soothing. 

Lips close to Cas's ear, Dean murmured, "Hey Jude..."

***

  
_Waiting on an angel  
One to carry me home  
Hope you come and see me soon  
‘cause I don’t want to go alone  
I don’t want to go alone._

Fin.


End file.
